Spirit's Awakening: The Path of Lightning and Water-Chapter 388: The Last Hours of Comprehension

The eighteenth hour of the comprehension trial arrived, and a shift in the atmosphere became unmistakable.

The Lightning Steele loomed, its surface unchanged, but the air was thick with a slow building charge of lightning mana, caused by the infusion of the collective focus of the competitors. The inscriptions remained still, yet their presence weighed heavily on the minds of those attempting to decipher them.

The competitors had moved beyond simple meditation through the quiet hours of the night and into the current morning light. Their spirit pressure pulsed in measured waves, subtle signs of realization passing through them as they refined their understanding.

Some now sat, eyes closed, completely motionless. Their breathing synchronized with the mental image training they were undergoing, while others began incorporating controlled gestures from their seated positions, shaping the movements their minds had grasped.

Some even took the time to stand up and get their body’s into various poses and positions, as if trying to speed up the learning process by training their body and mana coordination to match their comprehended technique.

It was the turning point.

For the first time since the trial began, there was an undeniable pressure in the air that began to climax—not from a single individual, but from the entire gathering of disciples, each one nearing the precipice of their personal breakthrough.

From his position on the Sect Master’s platform, Lassim leaned forward slightly, watching the competitors with growing interest.

He could sense it now—the delicate shifts in the way mana reacted to certain disciples, the near-invisible sparks of Lightning flickering around their fingertips, feet, or weapons as they aligned their comprehension with their natural affinities.

Volten, seated beside him, tilted his head in acknowledgment. "The strongest among them are close to completing their understanding," he whispered.

Lassim nodded. He too could see the familiar signs of making a breakthrough in a technique he’d attempted to create in the past—[Hydro Burst]—but could no longer use with his mana types now fused. Recognizing that familiar way certain competitors no longer hesitated, the small micro-adjustments they made as though refining details only they could see.

Elias Vael, who was no longer seated in absolute stillness, his breathing had deepened and his fingers twitching minutely as they mimicked a pattern of movement. A movement that was, to any untrained eye, imperceptible—but to someone experienced like the Sect Master, was the precursor to a fairly basic Lightning technique already within the sect’s library. It would seem he would not be winning the special prize first place position.

Elsewhere, Varen Istal’s lightning-infused fingers traced invisible arcs, his spirit pressure shifting in response to a technique he had begun to mold. His focus was sharp, unwavering, the faintest hum of gathered mana swirling around his palms and into his fingertips.

And then there were the more unconventional competitors that Lassim had watched with curiosity through the night.

A disciple at the far end of the platform, one whose elemental weapon took the form of a series of marble-like orbs, had summoned them during the evening to be wrapped around his wrists like bracelets. Yet now. They separated into their individual marbles and he began subtly guiding them through the air, their motions seemingly erratic but gradually forming a controlled rhythm.

Each shift in movement left behind tiny, but quiet flashes of Lightning, like echoes of an unseen attack.

At another position on the stage there was a female competitor with another unique elemental weapon that was fairly unconventional. Her elemental weapon is an intricate and colorful kite that she had summoned and let rise into the air nearly an hour ago. She had begun making minuscule adjustments to the technique she was creating, causing the string of the kite to pulse faintly as she slowly channeled her mana through it. The surface of the kite rippled with electric charge.

Similar signs of progress like these were taking place among all 52 participants now. They were all now seemingly past the observation and full on meditation stage of the competition and they were now fine-tuning their final forms.

By the twentieth hour, the very environment of the coliseum had changed once more.

The storm overhead surged, flashes of Lightning arcing unpredictably through the thickened clouds. It was as if the storm itself was resonating with the tension below.

The competitors were no longer separate entities, each locked in their own struggles—now, their insights and budding wills were bleeding into the very air, a convergence of basic intent saturating the coliseum.

Volten exhaled slowly, his golden-orange lightning eyes narrowing. "It’s rare to see so many nearing full comprehension at the same time," he remarked. "Some years, there are only a handful who reach this stage with confidence. This 5 year’s generation is proving… interesting."

Lassim’s focus remained locked on the competitors. "It’s like the storm is encouraging them," he muttered, noting how the Lightning above had grown almost restless.

Volten smirked slightly. "Perhaps it is."

As the twenty-fourth hour approached, the coliseum changed again, but not the environment this time. Instead, the Lightning Sect’s grand coliseum’s rows and rows of seats began to fill once more.

The thousands of lower-ranked disciples who had departed the night before to rest or were bored waiting were now returning, eager to witness the culmination of the comprehension trial.

The vast stands that enclosed the arena buzzed with quiet and respectful anticipation as seats filled rapidly. Soft whispers spread through the crowd about how everyone easily endured the full 24 hours, some asking if anyone had grasped a technique, and whether they could bet or wager on anyone achieving the near-mythical feat of creating something entirely new.

On the competition stage, the 52 Personal Disciples remained focused and completely tuned out the growing noise of the crowd. Though the comprehension period was nearing its end, none made a move to full display what they comprehended yet.

They focused on using the last few moments remaining to continue circulating their mana, their insights crystallizing in their minds, refining the mental images of the techniques they had spent the last 24 hours absorbing and interpreting.

A few had begun cracking their fingers, adjusting their grip and draws on their elemental weapons, or subtly shifting their weight between simple side to side steps—all these tiny movements signaling their readiness to demonstrate what they had gained.

Above them, the storm churned in anticipation, lingering arcs of lightning still restless in the sky.

Then—

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Three blinding bolts of lightning shot down from the roiling clouds above, striking the Steele in rapid succession. The inscriptions carved into the monolith pulsed once with a deep, electric hum before settling.

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Just like the single bolt of lightning’s crack at the beginning, the three bolts now have the signal. The comprehension trial had officially ended.

Niko’s voice boomed across the arena from his position atop the announcer’s platform, "THE TWENTY-FOUR HOURS ARE COMPLETE! COMPETITORS, PLEASE LINE UP ALONG THE SOUTHERN EDGE WHILE WE PREPARE THE STAGE ONCE MORE!"

A collective exhale seemed to ripple through the gathered disciples. Some turned to move immediately, confidence evident in their movements, while others took a moment longer, steadying themselves to stand up off the floor after their prolonged meditation.

The coliseum erupted into excited murmurs as spectators took in the sight of the 52 competitors standing before the Steele, their expressions ranging from calm assurance to tightly restrained excitement.

After everyone stepped off to the side in a line, the floor seemed to open back up again as the Steele disappeared into the underground, returning to where it had initially came. The stage closed the middle circle in just a few moments and it was back to a flat surface the whole way across.

Niko spread his arms wide, his grin sharp and full of energy. "And now, my dear audience, we move to the second phase—the demonstration!"

The cheers swelled at that. This was what they had all returned for. But before Niko continued, a subtle movement near the judge’s platform down by the arena stage drew attention.

A handful of figures had arrived, their presence carrying an unmistakable weight.

The Lightning Sect’s Head Archivist, Elder Maelis, an older woman with deep indigo hair streaked with silver, her robes embroidered with layered runes of preservation and lightning inscription, took her seat among the judges. Lightning flickered subtly between her unique cat-like shaped cufflinks that she had on her elder robes as she adjusted her sleeves. Her gaze settled on the competitors with calm but charged intensity as she took her seat.

Flanking her were two Sect Archivists, both responsible for maintaining the sect’s vast Lightning Archives as well, recording and verifying every technique within the sect’s history.

One of them, a tall man with frizzy violet hair that sparked slightly with stored static between the strands. He gave a brief nod of acknowledgment to the Sect Master’s platform above before setting his attention on the competitors. The other looked like she could be the daughter of the two individuals, which made Lassim raise an eyebrow but he didn’t comment. "Perhaps the whole family were in the same profession within the Lightning sect?" He thought to himself.

Niko, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, turned back toward the audience.

"For those unfamiliar with this part of the trial, allow me to explain!" His voice carried effortlessly, keeping the energy high.

"Each of our 52 competitors will now demonstrate the technique they comprehended from the Lightning Steele! Some will have refined techniques already recorded in our sect’s history. Some may present unique interpretations of known battle arts. But, once again—"

He paused, letting the tension settle before delivering the most anticipated line of the night.

"—Should any of these disciples display a technique never before recorded in the Lightning Sect’s Archives… they will be awarded a special honor of a God’s Trial token, even if their comprehension of the technique is low. Also, their name is to be etched into our sect’s history, and their technique preserved for generations to come!"

The crowd exploded with cheers. For the competitors, this was their true test. For the sect, this was a glimpse into the future. The demonstrations were about to begin.